Trapped
by DangerMouse
Summary: Maybe Lucius Malfoy isn't such a bad guy after all....(Chapter Three now up!)
1. Chapter One

trapped ****

Trapped

By: DangerMouse, The Great Immortal

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Lucius sighed contentedly, stepping out on the expansive balcony that came off his bedroom. _Our bedroom,_ he corrected with a smile, glancing behind him, seeing Narcissa's shadowed silhouette peacefully sleeping on the bed they shared.

The night air was more than a little chilly. He pulled his robes around him then gently rested his hands on the balcony's cold, metal railing, leaning out over the edge a little. He breathed in deeply - the air was sweet and clean. Above him, the stars sparkled impossibly bright. Everything was perfect.

"Nice wedding, Mr. Malfoy. It hurt me that I wasn't invited."

Lucius spun around, startled out of his thoughts. His eyes narrowed as he saw the speaker and he instinctively took a step back. "Macnair..." he growled, in no way hiding his disdain.

"Such a nasty tone," Macnair replied, scoffing slightly, yet looking mildly amused.

"Get off of my property," Lucius said through clenched teeth.

"I'm afraid we need to talk first."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"The world is changing, Lucius," Macnair pressed on. He walked over to the balcony railing and rested his hands on it, mimicking Lucius' previously contented position. Lucius had the distinct urge to take the three steps forward necessary to push him off, but held himself in check.

"The world is changing," Macnair repeated, "and for the better I'd say. Our Dark Lord becomes stronger everyday. We could use a man with your... resources." Macnair turned around, briefly waving his hand to encompass the entire Malfoy Manor and the property surrounding it.

"I have no interest in any of this," Lucius said dismissivly. This wasn't the first time he had been approached by followers of this so-called 'Dark Lord.' To Lucius, they sounded no different then any number of radical, anti-muggle wizarding groups. "My father has recently passed on," he continued, ignoring the dull ache that ran through his system at the thought, "and I am recently married. I don't have time to go gallivanting around, whining about how muggles are destroying the world. My family and the care of the estate are all that concern me right now. Besides, the last thing I need is the Ministry breathing down my neck."

"Ah, yes, your father," Macnair murmured, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Found dead in his study not six months ago, if I remember correctly. Just lying there, correct? A heart attack, they say. You know what's funny, Lucius?"

"What?" returned the younger wizard shortly, a feeling of dread settling rather uncomfortably in his stomach. Macnair was suddenly right in front of him, almost nose to nose, eyes filled with an expression Lucius did not want to identify.

"Your father didn't want to help us, either," the elder wizard whispered softly, his voice filled with a hissing menace. Lucius felt his world go suddenly cold, spinning around him. He staggered backwards, looking a Macnair with undisguised horror as the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks

"You killed him," he finally managed to voice, his words coming out soft and broken. Macnair chuckled lightly and shook his head.

"A heart attack, Lucius, remember?" Macnair said, his voice inappropriately light as he waggled a finger in the younger wizard's direction. "Dreadful, too, for one in such good health and so young."

Lucius felt his mouth go dry and his stomach twist. He stood there, briefly closing his eyes, trying to settle his rapid, angry breathing, ignoring his nausea. Now was not the time to be unfocused and after a minute, Lucius managed to pull himself together. Opening his eyes, he fixed Macnair with a steely glare and opened his mouth to order him off his property, this time planning to use force if he did not comply. He never got the chance to speak, however, as Macnair stepped to the side and looked past him, into the bedroom.

"Such a beautiful wife, Lucius," he said mildly, staring at the sleeping silhouette. Lucius immediately made move to stand between Macnair and Narcissa. "Your father's death was sad, granted. But hers..." Macnair paused briefly, a small, twisted smile on his face. "Hers could be a thing of nightmares." Lucius made an angry sound in the back of his throat and started to charge toward Macnair, but the older wizard simply gave him a brief nod then apparated away.

* * * * * *

Lucius sighed wearily, his head aching after apparating home. It had been a tough day at the Ministry. In the ten years since he had first been approached by Macnair (had it really been ten years?!?), the world had certainly changed, just as predicted. The Dark Lord was no longer a simple leader of a radical group as Lucius had once suspected, but was instead a very real and very dangerous threat. Within the past year or so, the ministry had begun to recognize just how great a threat Voldemort was, although far too late, in Lucius' opinion.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound behind him. Turing, he saw a trembling house elf, wringing his hands terribly, looking very much like he would gladly cut off his own toes rather than have to tell the Master of the House whatever was on his mind.

"What is it, Dobby?" Lucius asked with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The house elf swallowed hard and started tugging on his ears.

"Oh, Master. Bad men came into the Master's house while Master was away. Dobby tell them they can't stay but men stay anyway, go to the Master's study. They hit Dobby on the head," he moaned, pointing to a large bump that Lucius just noticed. Lucius leaned down and examined his house elf's injury.

"It's not your fault. Go to the kitchen and put some ice on it," he said with a frown, standing back up. "Next time the 'bad men' come, you and all the rest of the house elves just stay out of their way, alright?" Dobby nodded vigorously, his eyes rolling slightly at the pain caused by his injury, before dashing off down the corridor to the kitchen. _Thank goodness Narcissa is visiting her mother_, was the first thought in his mind as he walked quickly towards the study. Narcissa was very protective of the house elves - she knew them all by name and was quite friendly with them. If one of them had been hurt while she was here, she probably would have exploded with rage. Lucius smiled at the thought of his petite wife shouting angrily at the Death Eaters before fixing his expression to one of dour irritation he knew he would need when dealing with these 'bad men.' Taking a deep breath, he entered the study.

Even without being told by Dobby, Lucius knew exactly who he would find. "Avery, Nott, Lestrange, Macnair, Goyle," he said, greeting them each with a curt nod. 

"Malfoy," Macnair returned in the same manner.

"What the Hell are you doing in my house and why are you injuring my staff?" Lucius said in an almost pleasant voice as he moved around to his desk, setting down his Ministry papers.

"What, no tea first? Civilized men should at least offer tea before discussing business," Macnair said with a grin. Behind him, Goyle and Avery chuckled.

"Just tell me what you want me to store here or how much money you want to borrow then get out," Lucius snapped, rapidly losing patience. It had been a _really_ long day at the Ministry. It didn't help any that some of the Aurors were starting to suspect his involvement with Voldemort, one 'Mad-Eye' Moody in particular.

"Actually, we don't need you to do either of those things," Macnair said evenly, stepping up closer to Lucius. "You see, there's a small group of individuals which have been extremely... vocal in their dislike of us. The Dark Lord would like us to pay them a visit and quiet them up."

"I don't see what this has to do with me," Lucius replied moodily, glaring down Macnair with all his might.

Macnair blinked briefly in mock confusion before laughing slightly. "Well, I though it was frankly obvious, Lucius. You're going with us."

Lucius' eyes widened in disbelief and he spun away from Macnair and walked across the room, almost laughing himself. He kept his laughter in check, however, fearing it might come out hysterical. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned back around to face the gathered Death Eaters. "You've got to be joking," he told them, shaking his head.

"Not at all," Macnair said, all traces of lightness gone from his voice. Lucius was suddenly angry and he heard his voice become very hard.

"Listen here, you bastards," he growled, his voice dark and low. "I'll store your dark magic talismans, books, and charms. I'll even give you the money you need to acquire more. But I'll will _not_ put on one of those hoods and help you kill somebody in cold blood!"

Macnair tilted his head slightly and said in an almost whimsical voice, "Ah, yes. But what of the lovely Narci--"

"Narcissa knows exactly what's going on and agrees with me completely," Lucius said, abruptly cutting off Macnair in mid-sentence. "There is nothing in our lives that you can threaten either of us with to convince us to help you in that way. There are limits to our bargain and you've just crossed one. Narcissa and I would rather die than have _that_ on our souls."

"That is very easily arranged," Macnair spat out, shaking with fury. He suddenly took a deep breath and calmed himself, his voice slipping back into a pleasant tone that Lucius found absolutely infuriating. "Very well, Lucius. You are obviously tired from you long day and not thinking clearly. We are not taking care of this little problem for another two days. We'll return then and you can give us your final answer." Lucius said nothing more, mearly glared at them until, one by one, they left. With a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his soul, he slumped down in the chair behind his desk., resting his head on his arms on his desk.

He must have fallen asleep, because sometime later, he felt himself being shaken awake. Looking up, he saw Dobby, the bump on his head much smaller than it had been earlier in the evening, looking down at him with some concern. Lucius sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes.

"Dobby is sorry to have woken Master," began the house elf, wringing his hands again. "But Mistress is returned and asked Dobby go get Master."

"Where is Narcissa?" Lucius asked, standing up and smoothing his ministry robes, his heart heavy.

"Is up in bedroom," Dobby replied, still looking distressed. Lucius nodded and dismissed Dobby with a wave of his hand, leaving the study and making a beeline for the stairs.

Carefully, he opened the door to their bedroom. It was dark, only three or four small candles being lit. Narcissa was sitting at her vanity, studying her face in the mirror, her expression kept carefully blank. She didn't even look over at Lucius when he walked into the room.

"Beloved," she began softly, "there is something I have to tell you."

"And I you, my dear," Lucius replied, going to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She said nothing more, so Lucius took it to mean he was to go first. "Macnair and some of the others were waiting for me in the study tonight. They've asked me to join them on one of their... errands. They've given us two days before we have to give them our decision and..." Lucius trailed off, noticing how rigid and wide-eyed his wife had become, her face filled with horror. Lucius knew she would be upset - even though they had both prepared for this eventuality, the very knowledge that one's own death was near was still terrifying - but he didn't expect her to react quite like this. 

"Narcissa?" he said, his voice tinged with panic. Suddenly, Narcissa burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. With a sigh, Lucius cradled his wife's head against his chest, running his fingers lightly through her hair. "It's all right," he whispered soothingly, words and phrases of reassurance tumbling out of his mouth. "I won't let them take us terribly. They won't touch you. I can make a poison - fast acting..." At the word 'poison,' Narcissa stiffened again in his grip and pushed him away gently, standing abruptly.

"You don't understand," she whispered softly, tears continuing to run down her face. Lucius rested his hands on her shoulders, feeling, if possible, even more panicky by the moment.

"What is it, Narcissa?" he asked fearfully. "What's wrong?" She covered her face with her hands, taking deep breaths, trying to bring herself under control. She finally met his gaze, her sorrow-filled eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

"I'm pregnant." 

The words left her so softly, Lucius wasn't sure he heard them at all. His world shattered and Narcissa broke into tears again, this time burying her face in his chest, clutching the front of his Ministry robes in tight fists. He put his arms around her, steadying her as furious sobs racked her body. He thought back to his own haunting words said earlier in the evening...

__

"There is nothing in our lives that you can threaten either of us with to convince us to help you..."

To be continued...

A/N: Hmmm... don't know if anybody's ever done a story like this before (don't wanna know, either). What I do want to know is what does everybody think? Is this plausible? In the next part, I'll be explaining some of Lucius' behaviour later in books, etc. 


	2. Chapter Two

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A/N: Hello! Something I probably should have told you in the first part (Oh, well). In this story, Lucius is quite a bit older than the norm for most fanfictions. I don't think he attended school with James, Sirius, Peter, Remus, etc. I actually think he was in Hogwarts around the same time Arthur Weasly was (not necessarily the same year - I do think Lucius is a bit younger than he is). As you can tell from the previous part, I think Lucius and Narcissa were holding off on having kids because of the pressure they were under by the Death Eaters. I did entertain the idea of giving them a second child and having it get killed, but decided that would cause too much angst. Still, I do think it's strange that they only had one child - after all, a family that old wouldn't risk only having one heir. I mean, let's face it - If Draco dies (or turns out gay), that's pretty much it. Something to think about... 

As for any ~strange~ behavior Lucius seems to have (as 1960DeSoto (is that a Spike reference?) mentioned in terms of his treatment of Dobby) be patient, people! If I work this right, the persona Lucius uses with the rest of the world is not the same thing as who he really is. Don't worry. I think I can explain every behavior Lucius performs in the books. Stick with me. You might find it interesting.

OKAY! Enough of that! On with the story! (Picks up about eight months after the last chapter ended!)

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Trapped

Chapter Two

By: DangerMouse, The Great Immortal

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Lucius found his wife sitting in the plant-filled solarium when he got home. Her eyes were closed, an expression of peace and contentment on her face. Her left hand, from which a band of gold glinted in the sunlight, was stroking across her swollen abdomen. Her hair also glinted gold in the light, part of it pulled back in a messy half-bun near the top of her head. Lucius stood stock-still in the doorway watching the scene, his heart leaping about in his chest, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes.

"Beautiful..." he heard himself murmur. Narcissa's eyes opened at the sound and she smiled at her husband.

"Welcome home, Lucius," she said softly. She tilted her head to the side to look around him. "Is that Severus I see skulking in the shadows behind you?" Lucius gave a start, having nearly forgotten about his friend. He turned around and gave Severus a quick smile in apology before ushering him into the sun-lit room. The dark-haired young wizard mearly shook his head with a smile, adjusting the heavy bag over his shoulder and walked over to Narcissa.

"You look quite well, Madame Malfoy," he told her, taking a seat in a chair next to hers. Lucius came over and sat on the armrest of her chair, watching with interest as Severus began to pull things out of his bag, one by one.

"Call me Narcissa, and yes, I am well," she replied with a grin. "If you overlook the fact that my ankles are swollen, my back aches, I'm as big as a house, and I have to run to the little witch's room every ten minutes, then yes, I'm great."

Lucius quickly covered his smile with his hand. Since entering her third trimester, his quite, kind, well-spoken little wife had developed the vocabulary of a sailor, especially when she first woke up in the morning and had to have Lucius roll her out of bed. She never liked relying on anyone. He wondered if after this pregnancy was over if he would ever hear the phrase 'little witch's room' again.

"All normal for somebody who is eight months pregnant," Severus reminded her. He pulled a medium-sized, earthenware jar out of his bag and handed it to her. "This will help reduce the swelling on your ankles and your lower back pain. It needs to be applied three times a day. I'll let you do that," he said with a brief nod in Lucius' direction. Lucius took the jar from his wife and opened it, holding it under his nose. He expected it to smell strongly medicinal, but instead he was surprised with a light vanilla scent. As he recapped the jar, he looked back over at his wife, who was now holding a glass vile filled with a clear, red liquid.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a holistic tincture that provides nutrition for the mother and the baby and specifically targets the uterus, birthing canal, and the regulation of female hormones," Severus explained. "It has red raspberry leaf, motherwort, squaw vine, wild yam, chamomile, beth root, ginger, peppermint, beet, comfrey, aletris, dandelion, licorice, and stinging nettle extracts. It will make the birth easier."

"That doesn't sound very appetizing," Lucius said, wrinkling his nose.

"I suspect it might be a little bitter," Severus agreed. They both watched as Narcissa threw back the herbal remedy like a shot of whisky, without even a moment's hesitation.

"It's not too bad," she told them, handing the vile back to Severus. "It tastes a bit like pepper." She smiled pleasantly at the young wizard. "Thank you for doing all this for us, Severus."

"It's my pleasure," he replied, carefully putting the vile back in his bag. "It's nice to help bring life _into_ this world for a change." Lucius nodded before standing up.

"I have to go, dear," he said, leaning over and kissing his frowning wife on the forehead. Along with her new, exciting vocabulary and strange mannerisms, she had also developed quite a temper and strong mood swings. Sometimes, Lucius felt very fortunate his work both for the Ministry and Lord Voldemort were very demanding. "I promise I'll be back before dinner. Just ministry work this time," he lied, noting her worried glance. It wouldn't do to let her worry about the Dark Lord right now. She nodded sadly.

"Severus, you can use my library for as long as you want," he told his friend, his double meaning quite clear - _Stay here. Watch Narcissa. Protect the baby._ Severus also nodded. With a final kiss on his wife's forehead, Lucius left the solarium. Narcissa sighed deeply.

"He thinks I don't know, Severus," she told the young wizard sadly. Severus, who had been busy reorganizing things in his potion bag, looked over at her in surprise.

"Doesn't know what, Narcissa?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to reveal too much of Lucius' confidence.

"He thinks I don't know that he's going to do what ever it is you Death Eater's do when the sun goes down. He thinks I don't know about the blood on his hands because of this baby," she continued, frowning down at her swollen stomach. Severus made move to interrupt her, but she held her hand up, stilling any arguments he had. "He thinks I don't know that you're here to act as my baby sitter to make sure nobody tries to kill me when he's away. He thinks I can't take care of myself anymore," she continued bitterly, "which I guess is true since I can barely stand up on my own." 

"Lucius loves you," Severus told her firmly. "He loves you and he loves this baby. Yes, he asked me here to look after you, but that's only because he cares. It's never a bad plan to have an extra set of hands around just in case. Besides, I think he's less worried about you getting killed than he is about you going into labor when he's gone."

Narcissa was quiet a moment. "If I hadn't been pregnant," she began softly, "we both would have been dead by now, you do realize that." Severus nodded. "The night I told him," she continued, "we talked about it for hours. At first, we thought it wouldn't make any difference. What were our three lives compared to how many other's would be adversely effected by any future actions of ours? But the more we talked about, the more unfair it seemed to the baby." At this she rested her hand back on her stomach and closed her eyes briefly. "Maybe it's too late for us, Severus, but this life still has a chance to make it, don't you think?"

"Absolutely, Narcissa," Severus said with conviction, even if he wasn't sure he believed it. "Seems like everybody's having babies right now," he said gently, changing the subject.

"Oh?" asked Narcissa, looking at him. "Who else?"

"I don't think you know them," Severus said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I used to be... aquatinted with them when I was at school. Lily, the mother that is, sent me a birth announcement for their son about four months ago."

Narcissa tilted her head to the side in thought. "They'll be in the same year in school," she said, rubbing her stomach again. Severus blinked a moment, then nodded.

"I suppose they will."

A comfortable silence fell between them. Suddenly, Narcissa looked over at Severus, a slightly mischievous look on her face.

"Who are you spying for, Severus?" she asked bluntly. At this, Severus' eyes went wide and he sat up straight in his chair.

"Wh--what?" he asked in disbelief. "What are you talking about? I'm not _spying_ for anybody. I--I don't..."

Narcissa held up her hand once again to still any thing more he might say. "Never mind," she told him with a smile. "It's probably best I don't know. I shouldn't have even asked. I... ow!" Narcissa shifted suddenly, both her hands flying to her stomach. Severus, already on edge, jumped out of his chair.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked frantically, hovering over her.

Narcissa looked up at Severus, giving him a sly grin. "Feel this," she said, reaching out and grabbing Severus' hand, resting it right over her baby. His eyes opened wide in wonder as he felt movement below his palm.

"It's kicking," he said, his voice misty. "Is it always like this?"

"Sometimes," Narcissa told him. "This one is a pretty early riser, starts moving around five in the morning, rests in the afternoon, and starts up again in early evening." Removing his hand, Severus sat back down in his chair and stared at Narcissa with something like amazement.

"It's a miracle," he said after a minute. Narcissa nodded and smiled.

"It really is," she agreed.

* * * * * *

"It's a boy!"

Lucius looked up at the cheerful midwife, holding his new, noisy son up so he could see. He was squirming and very pink, crying quite loudly. A tuft of light, almost white hair graced the top of his head. As the midwife placed the baby on his mother's stomach, Lucius looked down at his tired, smiling Narcissa, giving her a kiss on her sweaty forehead. She smiled back at him, moving her arms down to wrap around the baby, bringing the small boy to her chest, who quieted and almost immediately began to nurse.

"A gusty one, that one is," said the midwife, standing up to watch mother, father, and son. "Healthy color, good size, ten fingers, ten toes, good appetite - you two should be proud."

"We are," Lucius said softly. He reached his hand down and rubbed his son's back. The skin was so soft and smooth. Narcissa sighed deeply and rested her head in Lucius' shoulder.

"He needs a good name," Lucius murmured softly. "A strong name. One that can carry him through hard times. A name he can be proud of."

"Draconis," Narcissa said simply, gazing down at her son.

"Draconis?" Lucius repeated. Narcissa nodded slowly.

"Our dragon. Brave, strong, intelligent, and, most importantly," she said, giving her husband a somewhat amused smile, "lucky." Lucius found himself grinning back at her.

"Draconis it is, then," he said with conviction, nodding to the midwife, who was filling out the papers for the Ministry concerning the birth.

"A middle name?" she asked. Lucius dug around in his brain, trying to think of something. He could always name him after his father, but somehow, he didn't think 'Francis' was going to be good for the boy. Malfoy men had enough problems with looking feminine as it was.

"Draconis Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa said firmly, startling Lucius out of his thoughts. He looked down at her in surprise. Narcissa read the question in his eyes quite clearly and answered him before he could ask. "Yes dear, after you," she began, "because like you said, he needs a strong, brave name. You are the strongest, bravest person I know." Lucius leaned down and kissed his wife tenderly, paying absolutely no attention to the midwife who watched the whole scene with a pleasant smile on her face.

* * * * * *

It had been a wonderful day for the majority of the members of the wizarding community. Multi-colored sparks were shot up into the air, owl post was being sent at all hours of the day and night, and people road their brooms in wild abandon. Wizards danced in the streets, heedless of the muggles giving them strange looks. Most everybody was laughing, joking, and celebrating, relaxed and relieved for the first time in many long years.

Lucius Malfoy was not celebrating. He was not laughing or joking and he was by no mean relaxed or relieved. Instead, he was extremely stressed, terrified, and nearly frantic. He apparated right outside the front door of the Manor and ran inside, yelling for his wife and child.

Lord Voldemort was defeated and the Ministry would be swooping down on his home in minutes.

"NARCISSA! NARCISSA!"

Narcissa had just finished wrapping her ten-month old son in a warm blanket and came running down the stairs at her husband's frantic cries. On her back was a small bag filled with supplies.

"I finished sealing the items left here by our associates into one of the secret chambers below," Narcissa told her husband as she tied her son comfortably to the front of her body. "I let the house elves and the other servants go for now, reset the wards, and set 'nothing special' charms around the house." Lucius marveled at how composed she was.

"Your wonderful," he told her, kissing her gently on the cheek.

"I know," she replied.

"I don't want you being here when they come," Lucius said evenly, resting a hand on his son's head and rubbing the soft, downy hair growing there. "Disappear with our son and be safe." His wife's eyes filled with tears, but she did not let them fall.

"What will they do to you?" she asked him. Lucius shook his head.

"Most likely I will be in Azkaban until my trail date. After that...." he trailed off.

"After that, you will come home to your wife and son and this nightmare will finally be over," Narcissa said, cupping her husband's face in her hands and brushing her lips across his.

"Yes," Lucius said, kissing her deeply. A sudden banging on the front door startled them apart.

"WE ARE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC," boomed a magically enhanced voice from outside. Draco started to cry. "LUCIUS MALFOY, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR SUSPECTED INVOLEMENT WITH THE DARK LORD VOLDEMORT. THROW DOWN YOUR WAND AND COME OUT OF THE HOUSE WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND YOUR MOUTH CLOSED."

Giving his wife and son one final kiss each, he stepped away from them. "I love you," he told Narcissa softly. "I'll always love you."

"And I you, my beloved," she replied in kind, her tears finally spilling down her face. Putting an arm protectively over her sobbing son, she muttered softly under her breath and disapparated away in a flash of pure, white light.

To be continued...

NEXT CHAPTER: Lucius' trial, how he was found innocent of his involvement, and Draco growing up a little. Everybody having a good time? I'd love to hear from you, either using the review function here or e-mailing me at [dangermouse42@yahoo.com][1] . I'll reply to you (if you leave me an e-mail address, that is). Thanks for reading! And a big thank you to all of you that reviewed chapter one (even the not so nice reviews)!

   [1]: mailto:dangermouse42@yahoo.com



	3. Chapter Three

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A/N: Hello! Been a while, eh? Thanks to everyone who's reviewed since Chapter Two! I've been sorta slacking on this story because I was debating rewriting part of it. But then, I changed my mind. So, here is chapter three for your reading enjoyment! Review if you wish! No flames, please.

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Trapped

Chapter Three

By: DangerMouse, The Great Immortal

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Lucius wondered if he would ever be warm again.

The cold, perpetual, dampness seeped through his filthy robes, oozing into the very marrow of his bones. He shook and coughed, cringing in the corner of his cell, locked in a world of near-total darkness. Around him, he could hear the screams of the accused and convicted. Terror descended on him in waves, accompanied by the almost silent swish of the dementor's robes as they passed by his locked door, their hooded gaze occasionally stopping to spare him a glance through the small, barred window.

In his mind, he re-lived the horrors of the past sixteen months - the men, women, and children he helped torture and kill; the cold fire that ran through his body as he was forced time and time again to pledge his loyalty to the Dark Lord; the pain of the Dark Lord's emblem being burned into his flesh, searing him every day, every moment.

There was something he needed to remember - Lucius knew that much was certain. It was some kind of happy thought, right at the tip of his memory, teasing him. It was almost worst torture than living through the past hellish months - the knowledge that something that could help him get through this was just outside his reach. It was a small thing, almost insignificant really. But it was important to him, it was his world. Why couldn't he remember? He let out a low moan in agony as another group of dementors passed his cell. Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

Voices on the other side of his cell broke his mantra. Lucius looked up through the darkness, trying to hear...

"... out of here, clean him up. He goes before the Board in the morning."

"... rotten Death Eater. ...we just .... leave them all here..."

"...monsters. Deserve... all of 'em."

The door suddenly swung open, filling the cell with light. Lucius cringed against it, his eyes filling with tears at the sudden brightness. Two hands roughly dragged him to his feet and out of his cell, squeezing his upper arms so tightly, he was certain there were going to be bruises. Of course, that was the very least of his worries.

As the Azkaban guards pulled him away from the main part of the prison, the dementor's influence affected him less and less. For the first time in what he knew must be weeks, he felt his mind clearing. The happy memory that steadfastly hung on the edge of his mind slowly slid back into place. A tiny smile broke out on his face.

"Draco... Narcissa..." he murmured softly, only to be yelled at the guards to be quiet and hit hard across the back of his head. Everything went pleasantly black.

* * * * * *

Lucius put a hand to the tender spot on the back of his head, frowning. On the other hand, he supposed if he got out of here with just only a small lump on his head, he would be very lucky. Dropping his hand back down to the armrest of the chair, he sat up as straight as he could, fixing the Ministry Board of Justice with what he hoped was a steely, yet impassive glare.

So far, they had spent the last fifteen minutes shuffling papers. Lucius fought hard not to grit his teeth. He looked at the faces that wouldn't look back at him - people he knew from his work at the Ministry, friends and colleagues. This was difficult for them. It was difficult for everyone. Lucius was at least mildly grateful they had given him a chance to get cleaned up and look presentable, a set of fresh, clean robes covering the sores and bruises on his body from being in Azkaban for two weeks. Gazing quickly over his shoulder, he could see Severus Snape in the audience, watching him with worried eyes. Lucius wondered, not for the first time, if his family was all right. Finally, Barty Crouch cleared his throat and looked up, making eye contact with Lucius for the first time.

"Lucius Malfoy, you have been accused by this Board of crimes against the Wizarding Community by association with the Dark Lord Voldemort," he said, his voice kept carefully even, his eyes like daggers. "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, by cause of coercion," Lucius replied in kind. He could hear the noisy mutterings of those in attendance of his trail. One voice in particular, that belonging to Alastor Moody, rang out quite clearly. Mr. Crouch banged his gavel on the table, bringing order back to the courtroom.

"I suppose you have some evidence to back up this claim," Crouch said in an almost snide tone of voice. Lucius was aware it was difficult to prove that one was under an Imperious curse or otherwise forced into doing something. Crouch was certain of a conviction - one that would do wonders for his place in the Ministry and most assuredly grant him a promotion. Lucius wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. It was difficult to prove coercion - difficult, but not impossible.

"I am willing to be put under a truth spell or to ingest a truth serum to prove my innocence," he said, with more courage than he felt. Once again, the room broke into chatter. Crouch looked particularly annoyed as he banged the table repeatedly to bring order. He gave a quick, angry hand signal to a bailiff, who disappeared into a back room, coming out moments later with a small vile containing a clear, colorless liquid.

"Veritaserum," the bailiff told Lucius as he approached. "Are you allergic to mugwart?" he asked, since it was one of the main ingredients in the truth serum and many people had an allergy to it.

"No, I am not," Lucius told him. With a nod, the bailiff handed him the serum and watched closely as Lucius tipped back the vile, allowing the somewhat syrupy potion to slide down his throat. Lucius tried not to gag as he handed the now empty vile back to the bailiff. The serum tasted almost sickeningly sweet, yet also unpleasantly sour at the same time. It coated his tongue and stuck to his teeth, managing to seem both gritty and slimy. Gradually, a warm pleasantness started to radiate from his stomach, moving out to the tips of his toes, fingers, and hair, relaxing him from the inside out. He felt himself sitting back in his chair, his vision becoming slightly cloudy and unfocused. Vaguely, he heard Barty Crouch asking him questions.

"What is your full name?" he asked.

"Lucius Fenrin Malfoy," he heard himself say automatically, without even thinking about it. His voice sounded oddly detached, like he was a puppet - his mouth simply flapping about while his subconscious directed what he was going to say. Somebody flashed the lit tip of a wand over both his eyes.

"He's ready," he heard the bailiff say.

"Lucius Malfoy, did you help the Dark Lord Voldemort in his rise to power?"

"Yes," Lucius answered.

"List and describe your crimes for the Board," Crouch told him. Lucius took a deep breath.

The words seemed to tumble out of him. He described, from start to finish, every death, every torturing, the expressions on the faces of his victims, the spells he cast, the dark magical artifacts he had gathered, and the forbidden knowledge he had been forced to learn. The Board listened, their expressions held carefully stony, betraying no emotions. After he finished, the Board was completely silent. Crouch looked up from the notes he had been taking, then fixed Lucius with a stern glare.

"Then, by your own admission of guilt, this Board here by finds you..." Crouch began, but was cut off by another board member.

"Wait, Barty. You didn't ask the right questions," came a female voice. _Meredith Jesspet_, Lucius thought mildly, recognizing the witch's voice. They had worked together in the Ministry when they were younger.

"Lucius Malfoy, did you _willingly_ help the Dark Lord Voldemort in his rise to power?" she asked, her voice pleasant to listen to.

"No, I did not," Lucius heard himself reply.

"Did you _willingly_ participate in the actions your previously described?"

"No, I did not."

"What were the circumstances of your coercion? Were you under an Imperious curse?"

"No, I was not under the Imperious curse. I was forced to help at the risk of losing my family though violent means."

"Your family?" Meredith asked.

"Yes, about your family," Crouch said, jumping in again. "We have been unable to locate your wife, Narcissa Malfoy. Where is she now?"

"I do not know," Lucius answered truthfully. "I sent my wife away with my son so that she would not be arrested. She was in no way involved with the Dark Lord or the actions of the Death Eaters and was, in fact, unaware of our actions. I was told if I did not help the Death Easters and pledge loyalty to Voldemort that I would lose my wife and child through horrible, torturous means. I did not wish to lose them, so I complied with their demands of me, unwillingly."

"Give us the names and locations of the other Death Eaters," Crouch asked nastily. Lucius opened his mouth to answer, but Meredith's voice interrupted him.

"Lucius, do not answer that question. Mr. Crouch," she said angrily, turning to look at the sour-faced man, "that is not a significant question relating to Mr. Malfoy's involvement with Voldemort and he is not required to answer it as such. I think we've heard enough," she said quickly, looking over at the rest of the Board, who nodded in agreement. With a sharp nod to the bailiff, she said, "Bailiff, please administer the antidote to the truth serum and escort Mr. Malfoy to the holding area. The council will decide on his case and reconvene in one hour." 

The sound of a gavel hitting the wooden table made Lucius jump slightly. He was aware of the large bailiff coming over to him, tipping his head back so that another potion could drip down his throat - this one very watery and bitter. Lucius coughed and choked, feeling his eyes tear up as the warm pleasant feeling left him in seconds, replaced with a cold sort of dread. He was pulled, not roughly, to his feet and escorted out of the courtroom. As he left, he caught Severus' eye, who gave him a reassuring nod. Lucius felt himself relax slightly, and allowed himself to be dragged along.

It was almost over.

* * * * * *

It was one of the longest hours of Lucius' life. The 'holding area' was really nothing more than a very large, unremarkable room with long empty walls and a cold stone floor. On the floor were large circles, maybe five feet in diameter, drawn in some kind of white, binding powder. A number of other prisoners were already in the room, standing in the center of their circles, a hazy blue column of light surrounding them. Lucius did not recognize many of these prisoners - most likely the falsely accused. In the days preceding the end of Voldemort, the Ministry had stepped up their efforts, arresting even those with the slightest suspicion of being involved. Occasionally, the Aurors got out of hand - the death toll was enormous.

However, these falsely accused, who looked at the floors or were cradling their heads in their hands, were nothing compared to the men and women Lucius _did_ recognize. They glared at him as he was led past, their eyes' speaking volumes. 

Finally, Lucius arrived at his circle, and, after a quick warning by the bailiff not to smudge the powder, stepped lightly inside. Almost immediately, the powder began to glow brightly and smell slightly sulfuric. A column of light surrounded him like it did the others, humming softly. The bailiff, satisfied that Lucius was secure, gave him a quick nod, then turned and left the room, glancing at other prisoners as he did.

Lucius stood quietly, looking down at the floor and rubbing the back of his head, which still ached. The soft sound of someone clearing their throat next to him made him look up, an action he immediately regretted. Against his will, Lucius felt a sigh escape him.

"Hello, Lestrange," he said quietly. "They capture you, too?" Lestrange continued to glare fiercely at Lucius.

"Rat us out to save your own skin, Malfoy?" Lestrange hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"I did nothing but tell the truth," Lucius told him, his voice kept even and clear. He fixed Lestrange with an easy stare, who's lip curled in disdain.

"This isn't over, you know," he told him, angrily. "You may think you're safe, but you never will be. The Dark Lord will rise again and when he does, he will reward the faithful."

"Then perhaps I could better serve him from the _outside_ of a cell at Azkaban," Lucius snapped, quickly losing his temper. Lestrange sniffed, turning away from Lucius to stare at the wall. That suited Lucius just fine.

The hour passed, time measured only by the pounding of his heart. Lucius closed his eyes, imagining the joy on Narcissa's face when she was holding Draco, remembering the way his son would smile up at him and grab his fingers, gurgling happily. He wondered what his first word would be.

Lucius was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of someone casting the counter-spell that would unlock his magical prison. Opening his eyes, he saw the bailiff, who reached out and grabbed Lucius' upper arm, leading him out of the circle. Taking a deep breath, Lucius followed the bailiff, ready to accept whatever sentence they would give him, repeating the same phrase that had been ringing through his head. _It's almost over. It's almost over. It's..._

"How is your son these days, anyway, Lucius?" came Lestrange's hissing voice as he was pulled past the older man's cell. Lucius' head snapped towards Lestrange, his steps faltering. The bailiff, not having heard anything, gave Lucius a strong glare over his shoulder and tugged him forward and out the door. The last thing Lucius saw was Lestrange's grinning face as the door to the holding room shut magically behind them.

* * * * * *

Lucius was forced back into the same chair he had been in an hour earlier. He glanced over the members of the Board. Crouch had a particularly foul expression on his face and he rustled the papers in front of him roughly, nearly tearing them in pieces. A spark of hope was lit in his chest. If Crouch was annoyed, that meant good things for him. He turned his eyes to Meredith. She met his gaze for only a few seconds before she dropped her eyes to the table, staring sadly at her folded hands.

The spark died and was replaced with a shard of ice.

After a short eternity, Meredith stood slowly, holding Lucius' gaze. Apparently, Crouch did not wish to give this verdict. Lucius stood as well, with a helping hand from the bailiff that was still holding his upper arm. Meredith cleared her throat twice before speaking.

"Lucius Malfoy, are you ready to accept sentence?" she asked him.

"Yes, Members of the Board," he replied, as was formally required. Meredith took another deep breath.

"Your crimes committed against the Wizarding Community and that of the Muggle Community were many and varied. Based upon your testimony and the evidence gathered by this Board, under normal circumstances The Ministry Board of Justice would have no choice but to find you guilty of all charges."

Lucius felt the ground waver below him and he fought the urge to close his eyes against the nausea rising in his throat. This was not going well at all.

"However," Meredith went on, "these are not normal circumstances. Because of your forced coercion and your unwillingness to help Voldemort, this Board hereby finds you not guilty by coercion." The courtroom exploded in noise, some of it angry, some of it just surprised. Lucius did not allow himself to celebrate. Something still was coming. He could tell by Meredith's guarded expression. She efficiently called the room to order.

"However," she continued, once the room had quieted, "this board does find you guilty of Possession of Dark Artifacts Not Allowed under Article V of the Magical Restrictions Act.. Therefore, it is the decision of the Board that you serve no more than seven months imprisonment in Azkaban after which all charges will be dropped from your record and you will be reinstated in you position in the Ministry. Judgement is passed." With that, she hit the gavel hard upon the table, a tone of finality echoing through the wood.

Lucius blinked three times in shock. Seven months in Azkaban? That was it? He expected a kiss of death, a life-sentence in Azkaban - and he certainly never expected to get his job back! A tiny smile flicked across his lips. Seven months in Azkaban - that was going to be horrible, true, but it wasn't forever. 

The guard helped him once again to his feet, navigating him through the now chaotic courtroom. All around, people were shouting out questions, talking amongst themselves, crowding around him. Lucius scanned the crowd quickly as he was yanked towards the door by the guard, finally spotting Severus as the young man was shoving people out of his way to get to him. With much effort, Severus latched on to Lucius' arm.

"Narcissa and Draco are safe," he said softly, so only Lucius' could hear. The older man nodded, giving the potions master a grateful look before they were pulled apart again. Lucius' was content to let the guard deal with the crowds and simply go along for the ride, so to speak, and did not struggle. Just as he was about to go through the door, however, Lucius' had the strongest urge to look back into the courtroom one more time.

Standing very still near the back of the room was a man, eyes blazing with a hatred so pure, it made Lucius' blood run cold. Anger, loathing, and a series of other such emotions flowed off of him in palatable waves right in Lucius' direction. It was Alastor Moody.

The door to the courtroom slammed shut.

* * * * * *

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on the soft grass in front of the Manor, watching with a sad smile on her face as her eighteen-month old son, toddled along in front of her. His steps were somewhat unsteady but his laughter was clear as a bell as he chased a small yellow butterfly that had the misfortune to cross his path. Draco crouched down, nearly tripping over the hem of his robes as the small insect lighted on a bright orange flower, the name of which was lost on Narcissa. Gardening was her husband's passion, not her own. Luckily, the house elves seemed to be maintaining the flowerbeds well in the Master's absence.

"Look, Mama!" Draco pointed to the butterfly and Narcissa walked towards him, then kneeled down next to her son.

"You must be quiet or it will fly away," she told him softly, pulling the little boy into her lap. They watched together as the delicate creature slowly flapped it's wings, sunning itself in the warm, summer light.

"Why?" Draco whispered, his eyes large and solemn. "I wouldn't hurt it."

"But it doesn't know that. Butterflies are delicate and timid creatures. Unlike little boys." Narcissa said, wiggling her fingers warningly Draco squealed and tried to jump off her lap, but it was too late as Narcissa began to tickle the squirming boy, The pale child laughed and thrashed, never noticing as the butterfly flew off, startled by the sudden increase in activity around it. It landed instead on the shoulder of a man standing still and quiet not three feet away, watching the scene before him next to another.

The tickle attack stopped and Draco sat up, giving him mother a bright smile. He frowned suddenly, looking over her shoulder. "Who's that with Uncle Sevvy?" he asked, pointing to the man. Narcissa spun around and stood up at his question, her body poised to protect her son and herself, her hand automatically going for her ever-present wand at her hip.

Her wand hand fell limp at her side.

"Lucius?" she whispered to the man before her, so much like her husband. His beautiful silver eyes seemed a little more tarnished than when she last saw him, his platinum colored hair a bit longer, and his frame a great deal thinner. Beside him, Severus gave her a reassuring nod. That was all it took for her to throw herself into her husband's arms, which he wrapped firmly around his petite and beautiful wife.

Draco watched with some degree of confusion the tearful reunion occurring before him. His Uncle Sevvy walked next to him, reaching down to pat him lightly on the head.

"Your father is home, Draco," he said. "Your father is finally home."

To be continued...

NEXT CHAPTER: Have things finally calmed down for the Malfoy family now that Voldemort has been defeated and most of the Death Eaters are dead or rotting in jail? Not bloody likely! ^_^ The pressure is back on for the Malfoy's as Draco gets older and the Death Eaters start surfacing once again. Stay tuned! - DM (who wishes she had an 'Uncle Sevvy.').


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